Aria's Story [ Interlude ]
There are no windows in his private chambers, the sunlight of the hall traveling no further than the doorstop but he does not hesitate as he steps into the awaiting dark. He lets the heavy oak door swing shut under its own weight, groaning softly on its hinges before the lock clicks quietly home, his smile a honey tinted glinting as his teeth catch the ever present light of his eyes.
He has come sooner than he'd expected.
Cressida does not bother with pretense, striding confidently to the foot of his bed where Benedict is already seated and waiting for him, a silent yet potent presence in the absolute dark, one not seen with the eyes but felt along every whorl of Cressida's skin.
"If it was my attention you desired, there are far simpler and immediate ways to attain it." the crypt king rumbles admonishingly even as he allows the golden eyed demon to straddle his crossed knees, pale hands coming to rest lightly on armor clad hips. "Why did you claim Morgan?"
"Because he owes me a boon that only service can repay. A life for a life, I did not think you would mind sharing him." Cressida answers lightly as he trails his fingers along the sides of Benedict's face, tracing the frozen lines of it before slipping up and into the cool velvet of his hair. "You've cut it again, it suits you."
"Who's life?"
Cressida finds himself frowning as hands take hold of his wrists to hold him still, Benedict's eyes like sickle moons as they stare up at him out of the darkness. He would not be distracted until he had his answers, Cressida's dark fingers curling slowly into aggravated fists as he draws back until they are balanced between pulls. They pass a moment in embattled silence before Cressida sighs and lets his arms hang, gravitating close enough to taste the chilled ozone of Benedict's existence in the air.
"Do you love," - there is a "me" clinging to the back of his throat but he leaves it there, uncertain as to whether or not he is ready to have that specific question answered - ",Benedict?"
The grip which had curled like steel around his wrists softens as if the crypt king knew what his darker counterpart had meant to ask, thumbs stroking gently at the pulse which beats strong beneath his fingers. Cressida is vain enough to think the touch is affectionate.
"Yes."
"Then you should know who's life he has saved. He does not realize this of course, but dryads are long lived and there may be a time when he does. Better he is held by both of us then, so his heart does not have room for her on its own terms."
The crypt king makes a pleased sound low in his throat at that, tugging Cressida down to settle astride his lap now, lips brushing against his dark chin.
"It galls him to be beholden to anyone so young. He thinks you take him lightly." Benedict noted almost idly even as Cressida's body arched into his in silent demand, releasing his arms finally to drag his fingers the length of the shadow king's thighs and for moment Cressida's blood burns.....but then he could feel the pale demon's interest turning elsewhere and he snarls, shoving the man back to pin against the mattress.
Benedict falls, unresisting, beneath him, palms flat against the sheets now and eyes molten as they reflect the sallow light of Cressida's own gaze.
"You say your attention is not so hard to catch and yet here I am, still without it. What further lengths must I go to, simply to hold you still for one night?" he demands, exasperated and desperate and angry for having been forced to admit as much aloud.
The smile that curls Benedict's dry lips is anything but kind.
"Ask me."
It is all he can do not to rip the elder demon's throat out; to carve his furry into every inch of Benedict's skin for having proposed something so mockingly simple and yet utterly humiliating. Cressida is snarling still as he stretches himself full length against Benedict's prone body, molding himself into the elder demon's curves as yielding and pliant as he could force himself to be because submissive words would never be enough on their own.
He was far too pretty a liar.
"Benedict, Crypt King, and holder of the Shadow King's favor, will you stay with me this night as lover?"
"That mouth was made to please me, my dearest Ambrose." Benedict purred, fingers chasing after the responsive shudder that worked its way down Cressida's body at the use of his true name. "I will stay with you this night and the next three for your eloquence."
Cressida snorted, but then cold lips were pressing against his own and he forgot to be anything but what Benedict wanted.
He has come sooner than he'd expected.
Cressida does not bother with pretense, striding confidently to the foot of his bed where Benedict is already seated and waiting for him, a silent yet potent presence in the absolute dark, one not seen with the eyes but felt along every whorl of Cressida's skin.
"If it was my attention you desired, there are far simpler and immediate ways to attain it." the crypt king rumbles admonishingly even as he allows the golden eyed demon to straddle his crossed knees, pale hands coming to rest lightly on armor clad hips. "Why did you claim Morgan?"
"Because he owes me a boon that only service can repay. A life for a life, I did not think you would mind sharing him." Cressida answers lightly as he trails his fingers along the sides of Benedict's face, tracing the frozen lines of it before slipping up and into the cool velvet of his hair. "You've cut it again, it suits you."
"Who's life?"
Cressida finds himself frowning as hands take hold of his wrists to hold him still, Benedict's eyes like sickle moons as they stare up at him out of the darkness. He would not be distracted until he had his answers, Cressida's dark fingers curling slowly into aggravated fists as he draws back until they are balanced between pulls. They pass a moment in embattled silence before Cressida sighs and lets his arms hang, gravitating close enough to taste the chilled ozone of Benedict's existence in the air.
"Do you love," - there is a "me" clinging to the back of his throat but he leaves it there, uncertain as to whether or not he is ready to have that specific question answered - ",Benedict?"
The grip which had curled like steel around his wrists softens as if the crypt king knew what his darker counterpart had meant to ask, thumbs stroking gently at the pulse which beats strong beneath his fingers. Cressida is vain enough to think the touch is affectionate.
"Yes."
"Then you should know who's life he has saved. He does not realize this of course, but dryads are long lived and there may be a time when he does. Better he is held by both of us then, so his heart does not have room for her on its own terms."
The crypt king makes a pleased sound low in his throat at that, tugging Cressida down to settle astride his lap now, lips brushing against his dark chin.
"It galls him to be beholden to anyone so young. He thinks you take him lightly." Benedict noted almost idly even as Cressida's body arched into his in silent demand, releasing his arms finally to drag his fingers the length of the shadow king's thighs and for moment Cressida's blood burns.....but then he could feel the pale demon's interest turning elsewhere and he snarls, shoving the man back to pin against the mattress.
Benedict falls, unresisting, beneath him, palms flat against the sheets now and eyes molten as they reflect the sallow light of Cressida's own gaze.
"You say your attention is not so hard to catch and yet here I am, still without it. What further lengths must I go to, simply to hold you still for one night?" he demands, exasperated and desperate and angry for having been forced to admit as much aloud.
The smile that curls Benedict's dry lips is anything but kind.
"Ask me."
It is all he can do not to rip the elder demon's throat out; to carve his furry into every inch of Benedict's skin for having proposed something so mockingly simple and yet utterly humiliating. Cressida is snarling still as he stretches himself full length against Benedict's prone body, molding himself into the elder demon's curves as yielding and pliant as he could force himself to be because submissive words would never be enough on their own.
He was far too pretty a liar.
"Benedict, Crypt King, and holder of the Shadow King's favor, will you stay with me this night as lover?"
"That mouth was made to please me, my dearest Ambrose." Benedict purred, fingers chasing after the responsive shudder that worked its way down Cressida's body at the use of his true name. "I will stay with you this night and the next three for your eloquence."
Cressida snorted, but then cold lips were pressing against his own and he forgot to be anything but what Benedict wanted.